


army

by kunnskat



Series: Winter was Here [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Badass Arya, Gen, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, pairing sort of one-sided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-12 20:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11744628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunnskat/pseuds/kunnskat
Summary: She's tiny again. Those lost inches are mourned, but if that's the only lost thing, she'll take it.Besides, he's tiny too. Well. He's tall, but he's also skinny and not likely to grow any taller like that. If she can regain her height, they'll be the same. Another similarity she can add to the list she's been making since she saved him from choking on his own tongue in a swamp.ORArya Stark travels back in time to before the fall of the Starks, before the King visits, before the direwolf is taken down by a stag and little pups are rescued.And then she temporarily runs away to make a few changes and recruit a trustworthy friend she'd never gotten to meet.





	army

**Author's Note:**

> Am I inspiring more people to write for this pairing yet (and how many will notice the song reference)?

He wanders the swamps as if he'd been born in them, she hides still but she knows he'll see her soon, if he doesn't already. Hasn't already. Perhaps he even knows she's here, she's not sure, she's never really gotten a proper explanation of how his gift worked. Just that it's different from Bran's.

It is only her knowledge that keeps her from taking a step backwards and revealing her presence for certain when he turns to look her way. Movements create sound, and the sound of her breaths is all she'll allow right now, silent as they are. If she's to be caught, it'll not be due to a mistake, but because of knowledge, she is a wolf, she hunts. She is not hunted. 

Then he falls sideways, as if he can no longer control his body, and she waits but a second, perhaps a second too long, to react, when he makes no move to get up, but has a fit instead. 

It is strange, something reminding her of poison, but she knows she cannot counter any right now. He'll bite off his tongue, though, if she doesn't keep his mouth open, so she shoves her hand in and hopes he doesn't bite enough to make her bleed, and in turn poison her, too. She doesn't think it lethal, can't be, she hasn't made enough changes that anything like that should be possible. She knows he lives years more than this. But it'd still be a bother to have to suffer through a poisoning all the same. 

It ends sooner than she'd thought it might, and she finds herself looking into his eyes, clear and seeing and not at all affected by his fit. His hand touches hers, weakly tugs at it, and she lets him guide it away from his mouth. 

"...I've not seen you before," he says it softly, as if he means for her to not hear it, but she hears it all the same. She knows what it is he means, but wonders of it, because ought he not recognize her? Or had she simply not been important the first time around? Did his vision center only on Bran? There are so many questions that she might never have answered, but this could be her chance, if she's willing to try. 

"You must've, just not the me that's inside right now. I'm Bran's sister, and you've seen him, haven't you?"

He gives her a thoughtful look, no doubt he has noticed her lack of questions. She might ask about the fit, soon, if he doesn't manage to move for a while yet. She doesn't think she can carry him quite yet, not strong enough. 

"You're Arya Stark, then," and she smiles, because there is no 'lady', there is no 'princess', there is no title in front of her name. It's just her. She likes him already. 

"I've traveled further than the distance between here and Winterfell, further than any should be capable of, to be here today," she's taking a leap of faith, accepting that in the end, Jojen Reed will do what he can to help fight the Others, and that his family is loyal, has been loyal for some time now, to hers. She'll have to tell someone something eventually. He's a good start. "I've still got places to be and things to do, but. I think you know that feeling better than I."

-

She is stalling. They both know it, but he is willing to let her do it for as long as she needs, or at least until she no longer can. Eventually they will be seen, there at the edges of the forest, and someone will approach them, to ask what business they have there and why they linger, and they will notice her looks and, if they are lucky enough to not need be bothered by a long procedure, will recognize her. 

Arya doesn't look at him even as he takes her hand as he has learned to do through their time travelling together, but he knows it works when she takes a deep breath and puts a mask of determination on her face. It won't be a mask for long, her strength is true. 

Together, they ride slowly towards the gates, hands still locked almost awkwardly together so that she may draw strength from him until she decides she no longer needs to. Part of him wishes to not part at all with her, but he quiets it without a word. For now, there is nothing he can do but be there for her for the time being. He will only have her if she wishes to let him have her, and not a moment sooner. 

Her trust he knows he holds within his hands, and he is careful not to crush it, though he thinks he couldn't even if he tried. When she decides to love someone, she loves with all she is and forgives all they do. He has seen it, her love for her family and the things she will do for them. 

Shouts start up when they've reached the entrance to Winterfell, guards taking one look at them and calling for their Lord, the recognizable girl holding his hand the reason they are let through so easily. They must have all known her before, he thinks, and remembers her words of how she'd always been a wild child, running around and making messes for the guards and knights and all between. 

Jojen almost smiles then, even as she lets his hand go to get down from her horse, swept up into an embrace by the man that he knows must be her favorite brother Jon. She's tense only for a moment, it barely shows even to he who knows her reasoning, before clinging to him just as hard as he clings to her, quiet sobs barely heard to those closest to them while the people around them part for the arrival of Lord Stark, and the rest of her family appearing from different places, hope on all their faces. 

Almost, but not quite. Though there are many reasons to smile, now, there are also certain reasons not to, and soon they will get to the not part, and no one will be smiling anymore, despite the return of Arya Stark. 

He watches her greet her family until the Lord Stark turns to him, gratitude in his eyes and a hint of a smile pulling on his lips as Arya introduces him, taking care to further ground the good impression he's made from returning her with mention of his “saving” her, his finding her, his friendship in her trying times. 

“You have our thanks, Jojen Reed, we will see to it that you are rewarded,” he is told, but he shakes his head at once, this time smiling wryly to show that he means only good by denying the gratitude. 

There are words he would reply with, if he could, words of having made a friend he cannot do without, that he wishes to keep that friendship, cultivate it and let it grow, and it would be all the gratitude in the world that he would wish for, but those are not words he ought to use during a first meeting with the Starks, and certainly not so in public. 

He can only request that he be allowed to stay a little while, which is of course granted both due to his services and that of his father before him.

-

"You know what is needed, I could not leave at this time even if I could bring myself to leave the friend I treasure so," Jojen has seen friendship between he and Bran, though he hadn't at that time seen it between he and Arya, and if they go through that which he has seen, he knows Bran will count as his first friend in his mind, even with the unexpected kindness of the wolf girl that had appeared in front of his awakened form long before he dreamed of her. She is his true friend, given to him not by the Gods, but by her. 

Arya Stark has chosen him, and that makes her worth his time just as much as his destiny to die for her brother.

“I've messed up, I've always been messing up here in Winterfell, it's a hard habit to break,” he thinks he must have done something wrong, spoken something wrong, with these words coming out of her mouth. It doesn't sound anything like the Arya he's come to know and it bothers him more than a little. He wants to tell her that there's no messes here and he thinks of her as more than she seems to think of herself, but she interrupts him when he tries, “I'm sorry, I've been a burden, but I'm grateful you wouldn't let me give up. I don't rightly know why you'd go to so much trouble, even loyalty only goes so far, but--”

Frowning, he can't stand to listen to her disparage herself any further, so he does something no future Lord should, but something he has learned that as a friend, he can. He places a hand over her mouth and even when she licks at it to make him remove it, he doesn't. 

“Are we not friends? Loyalty and friendship are similar things, you've taught me, and I like to think we share them both,” he knows she will say they are, and that she cannot deny his points, so he gives her no chance to try. 

“One day you will understand me better than I understand you today, and I hope you will still think as fondly of me then as I do you now,” though perhaps he thinks more fondly of her than he ought to, but it is not as if he intends to act on it and scare her away. Her trust is much more important than most things in his life, her happiness for him to treasure during the time he has with her. 

He still does not know if the future he had seen before he met her has changed, or if it will remain the same in most ways. He hopes not, though he still believes that dying as he does his duty, creating a path for what is necessary in a good future, a future where she can live, would be worth it. 

–

“I'm afraid,” she whispers it, as if admitting to it is a sin and the Gods will strike her on the spot for it. She whispers it as if he will not hear it, then, and that if she says it low enough, it won't be the truth. As if she's a child, lesser of the strength he knows she holds, and he softens, as he has each time she has bowed her head and hidden her pain. 

“So am I,” he whispers back, knowing that to say anything else will be to mock her, and he does not wish to make her angry with him, even if it is preferable to saddened. Anger with others is just as well, but he also knows better than to frame her thoughts so, now. It will only end with her maiming, or attempting to, those she finds a reason to throw her fury at. 

He thinks understanding her, and letting her see that she is not alone, is his best option. He does understand, too, as best as he can. She has told him many things, shared her thoughts and feelings on their way here, and he has done his best to be her friend throughout it all, so he knows her now. He knows her like his dreams would never have been able to tell him of her, mannerisms and hopes and thoughts and wants. All that she is, all that she's been willing to offer him.

She smiles at him, then, and he knows the choice was right. She'll explain if she wants to, if she thinks she needs to, he can wait. He's got patience, it's one of those few things he knows speaks well of him as a person. Something he's been taught since he was young and saw things to be and kept expecting them to have been when he'd seen them. Patience had become an important way to ensure the future would not be ruined. 

Arya shares plenty words when she wishes to, but every now and then she prefers to silently work out her thoughts before speaking. 

"I know what we need to do," tilting his head to look at her better from where he's sitting, he waits for her to continue. Asking is pointless, she knows him well enough by now to know when she needs and needs not explain her words. She's not smiling anymore, but it'd been half-hearted anyway. "We've got to go."

Go? He's not sure what she's talking about, if she wants them to leave before the King does, if she's saying they need to get to the wall to warn those there, if they must leave for the wall. There are so many options for her, so many things already changing. He knows where he ought to be in some time, but for now he is free to follow her where she wants him to. 

She hops up, pacing slightly for a moment, then as if she's come to a decision, whirls on him and holds her hand out. 

Jojen knows not what she's planning but he trusts her, so he takes it, and finds himself being dragged through the trees, his feet stumbling upon unexpected roots in his confusion and worry and need to know why she's decided they need to go wherever it is they're going right that moment.

"Arya, wait!" It would not do to shout and draw unwanted attention, so shouting or fighting her, of which he can do neither even if there was no chance of getting caught, is out. But calling in a low voice that he knows she will hear, squeezing the hand that allows her to drag him along, those bring her attention to him just as well, or perhaps better. Yes, he'd like to have a plan, but getting them caught and ruining what she might have worked out of one is not preferable.

–

His heart is racing, but he does not let it frighten him. He needs to be calm, he needs to find their way out of here, to safety. He must lead her through the safest path, or she will attempt to create one for them, and he will lose her. He listens with her, but hears the fighting no longer, and he knows they'll get no further from here on foot. They've little choice left to survive, when the vision hits, it is almost a relief.

He hopes however, that when he wakes, she will still be there.

The vision is a warning he hopes he is getting in time, there is a coldness creeping up on the trees, freezing them and killing them, the forest slowly but surely dying. Flowers, bright and dark, wilt, heads hanging, a breath away from withering. A wolf charges between the trees and for a moment he believes it will stamp down the flowers, turn them into crushed snow, but it avoids them, coming to a stop just above them. The cold nips at the nose of the wolf, but it grins as no wolf ought to be capable of, and it tenses to spring upon the cold, teeth showing in a threat it should not be able to make. 

It's eyes are grey and he immediately feels safe.

He awakens, then, to the sight of her worry, her face above his, and his hearing returns to her whisper of his name, only not overshadowed by all the sounds around them for his focusing upon only her. 

He smiles softly at her, squeezing the hand he feels in one of his to reassure her, and her worry clears into relief, and then guilt. 

“I have doomed us,” she tells him, still softly as to not let the reality impact them, though the sounds of fighting around them clears his hearing to screams of rage and fear and all that is between. 

“You have not,” he denies her, for if they are doomed, it is his fault, for not having made sure she would run if it came down to her living rather than both ending up dead. “I see no doom, Arya Stark of Winterfell, I still have you.” He senses her confusion even before it is shown to him, he knew she would be, but he does not mind clarifying even if she will understand within moments, as he has seen moments ago. “When I am with you, I stand with an army.”

The howls of wolves, uncountably many, rise into the air just after his words.


End file.
